Skips A Beat ::Wattys2016::

Chapter 23

"Rape me." Michael sings, strumming his guitar carelessly. "Rape me, my friend. Rape me. Rape me again."

"I'm not the only one!" He stands up, putting on a show for me. "I'm not the only one!" He jumps around, still singing and playing. "I'm not the only one! I'm not the only one!"

"Hate me," he stops jumping, tilting his head to the side and singing to me, "Do it and do it again. Waste me. Rape me, my friend."

"I'm not the only one! I'm not the only one! I'm not the only one! I'm not the only one!"

"My favorite inside source. I'll kiss your open sores." He winks at me, knowing that I'm enjoying my Mikey concert. "Appreciate your concern. You'll always stink and burn." I smile as he jams out to the mini guitar solo there.

"Rape me. Rape me, my friend. Rape me. Rape me again."

"I'm not the only one! I'm not the only one! I'm not the only one! I'm not the only one!"

"Rape me!" He sings on the top of his lungs. "Rape me! Rape me! Rape me! Rape me! Rape me! Rape me! Rape me!" He screams. "Rape me!"

He sighs, sitting down beside me. He plays a few notes, pondering the next song he wants to play. He suddenly strums a note, and slowly sings.

"It's been two years now," he strums another chord, "haven't even seen the best of me."

"What's that from?" I ask. I've never heard that line, and I know everything that Michael likes to sing. He shrugs, tapping his head.

"From up here."

I snap awake because someone is screaming. I hit my head off of the wall, making me cringe. Who the hell is screaming? I look over at Michael. His eyes are wide open, just like his mouth as he screams. I try to detangle myself from my blankets as quickly as possible, and run to his side. I grab his hand.

"Michael, honey. Calm down." I try to soothe him. He stops screaming, but continues to whimper in fear. I hush him. "Michael. Kitten, look at me." He tilts his head to the wrong side. What is he doing? "Wrong way, kitten." He moves his head again, finally facing me. I smile at him, only to realize how distant his eyes seem. It's like... he's looking... through me.

"M-Mikey?" I whisper. He moves his head again, staring straight up. What's happening? I stand up straight, and back away. I sprint down the hall to the nurses station. "Joy!"

When I get there, I'm surprised to see Norman, and not Joy. I nearly slip on the tile, but I grab the counter to save myself. Norman looks alarmed.

"Norman, can Michael go blind?" I ask. He sucks in a cheek, before nodding his head.

"It's plausible that his body is shutting off each of the senses." Norman says. "Why?"

"Because I think he is."

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As if God is trying to stretch out my misery, Norman tells me that he isn't really responding to... anything. He's not responding to noises, or any visuals. He's just sort of staring blankly.

I, personally, refuse to believe that it's true. They say that if someone doesn't respond to a noise or visual, it means they are deaf or blind. Well, Michael may be going blind, but I absolutely refuse to believe that he can't hear me. I lay beside him on the bed, quietly thanking Norman for checking on him. There's nothing to do, because I am ninety-nine percent sure that he's sleeping again. So, I'm listening to his heart monitor. Beep. One. Beep. Two. Beep. Three. Beep. Four. Beep. One.